Ineluctable Love
by DeannaEmrys
Summary: Snapshots of our love. Inspired by The Lover's Dictionary by David Leviathan
1. Chapter 1

**Cease **

**1. To come to an end; to stop; to leave off or give over.**

**2. To be wanting; to fail; to pass away. **

"Please don't make me live without you."

The words are whispered. The din of the bar doesn't let up for even a second. Time trudges on, impervious to mere mortals and their pathetic problems.

"Please."

-I love you so much it hurts.

-The bed is too cold without your touch.

-There's never any milk in the fridge because I always forget to make lists like you tell me too.

-My pjs actually fit and they're way too uncomfortable compared to your shirts.

"Please, just." Cue one deep shuddering breath. Quivering lips. Fat salty tears cascading down fuchsia stained cheeks."Don't go."

But the decision has already been made. The jury is all in complete agreement.

The gavel has already stricken the sound block.

The Fat Lady has finally sung.

"There's nothing left to stay for."

The din of the bar doesn't let up for even a second. Time continues to pass unaffected. The night welcomes me with fond arms.

No one notices that something has died.

That our relationship now ceases to exist.

Dry your eyes and lets call it.

Time of death: 20:37

R.I.P

XXXXX

**Falter  
1. Start to lose strength or momentum.  
2. Speak or move in a hesitant or unsteady manner.**

There was a second, one fleeting moment, on our fifth date, that made me down my entire glass of wine and loosen my collar from around my next.

Your eyes had flashed with such an intensity that I wasn't sure if I could ever live up to your standards.

You had been talking, well complaining, about your job, about the 'too long hours' and the 'tasteless uniforms' you had to wear and I sat there judging you in the most silent part of my brain.

Just another spoilt little rich boy with brains and beauty to boot, who's just playing the field until some gorgeous trophy wife comes along and provides you with a horde of stunning, well-behaved kids who call you father with no real affection in their voices. You'll take over the family business when your dad gets too old and live off of your name and wild child reputation for the rest of your life.  
That was the plan, what everyone expected you to do.

And yet, you were working 12 hour shifts, six days a week at a crappy lab job simply for the experience. You were slugging your guts out everyday when you could have been partying on a yacht with all the other trust fund kids. You could have been having the time of your life.  
Instead, there you were, just sitting opposite me in a fancy restaurant with your whole, entire future ready for you on a silver platter just like our meal, and you wouldn't even take a second glance at it.

You were too busy looking at me instead.  
Glancing at me from underneath flirty, fluttering eyelashes.  
Peeping at me over the rim of your crystal wine glass.  
Fleeting moments of intense eye contact in between studying your menu and taking in the decorations of the restaurant like it really mattered.

I could never wrap my head around _why_. Why would someone like you with ethic and money and class, ever look twice at someone like me? Would ignore their gold plated future for me?

Penniless. Cynical. Damaged.

I wanted to reach across the table and shake you until you realised you were wasting your time, your life.

You smiled. A tantalizing tilt of coral lips. Your voice like crushed velvet as dark as your eyes and I faltered. I faltered from telling you everything that was screaming inside of me.

I breathed out and let the moment pass.

We should have known right then and there. I should have told you.

XXXX

**En·cour·age**

**1. to inspire with courage, spirit, or confidence.**

There's a crude list cello-taped to my fridge written in orange crayon.

2 backpacks

1 crumpled map

1 half empty bottle of Jaeger

3 ham and cheese butties

6 cans of cider (pear)

plasters

1/2 a skipping rope

a donkey

2 plane tickets

you

Taped up next to it is a blurry photo of us, taken at arms length.

Our faces are red from the cold and the sign we're stood in front of is definitely not in English, but we look happy. Cold, but really, ridiculously happy.

You said you wanted to travel the world so I told you to make a list of everything you'd need.

I was mocking you and your inane need to make lists for everything.

Always trying to make a joke out of your ambitions so I wasn't left behind, choking on your dust.

Your grin was blinding and your eye rolls never went unseen by me.

"_We_ should travel the world."

Your list is still cello-taped to my fridge door.

Most days I don't even want to leave my house to get the paper from my front porch but for you, for you I would have travelled the world.

XXXX

**Rup·ture**

** 1.(esp. of a pipe, a vessel, or a bodily part such as an organ or membrane) Break or burst suddenly.**

"I slept with someone."

Something had been bugging you all week. The twitch in your leg that your medication was supposed to treat was back worse than ever, not to mention you were flitting from project to project quicker than I could keep track of. I knew something like this was coming.

My gaze took forever to settle on you. I had to literally tear my eyes away from the printed words of the story in my lap.

It felt as if there was a storm brewing in my chest, all crackling electricity and gale-force winds ready to destroy a whole town, a city, the entire country.

My eyes fall back to the book balancing on my thighs. My grip so tight my knuckles are bleached white.

"Who?"

Clenched teeth, tense jaw. The spine of my book creaks.

You sigh and rub your scalp with your hand. I don't even need to see you to know that your eyes are overflowing with sea water, their waves crashing down the planes of your heartbreaking face.

"Jackson, Jackson Whittemore. He works in my office. You, you met him at my Christmas party last year."

'Of course', my brain thinks.

Jackson looks like the kind of guy you should be with. Looks like a high class model, all slanting cheekbones and pouty lips, his golden brown hair constantly slicked back out of piercing blue eyes that are confident and calculating. Looking nothing but sharp in his expensive suits.

He's totally from your world, what with his impeccable manners and enough money to buy a private island, (or six).

I can't, and don't, even compare.

I look ridiculous in a monkey suit, my hair is always, always dishevelled, I'm rude and cold and terrible at talking to people. I can barely afford take away pizza most weeks and I look more like a mechanic than a sparkling socialite.

You stumble forwards but fall short of the armchair I reside in. Your voice is thick with tears when you next speak.

"I am so unbelievably sorry. I was so angry at you and he took me to that new bar near work for a drink to cool down and one thing lead to another and, I am so, so sorry."

I want to throw things and scream until I'm hoarse. I want to kick you out of our apartment, set fire to anything and everything you've touched. I want to find Jackson and bruise his pretty face until it resembles the bloody mess in my chest.

My eyes stay glued to the page even though I can no longer make out any of the words.

"Was it a one time thing?"

Doesn't matter, not really. The damage has been inflicted but I'm brilliant at lying especially to myself.

"Yes, I swear to god! It will never ever happen again, its you I love." Your voice is choked and for a moment I visualize my fingers tight around your throat.

"Okay then."

I finally meet your eyes and you look so relived that I actually believe you're sorry.

I'm an amazing liar but you, you take the prize.

XXXXX

**Pup·pet**

**1.A movable model of a person or animal used in entertainment and typically moved either by strings from above or by a hand inside it.**

You'd glare at a can of soda and I'd reach across the table to open it for you.

You'd shiver and my coat would make a home around your shoulders.

You'd tap your bottom lip with your index finger and my lips would find yours for the sweetest of kisses.

XXXXX

**Ache **

**1.A continuous or prolonged dull pain in a part of one's body.**

Your little sister likes me more than you.

You always say it doesn't bother you but I know you better than that.

Every time Izzy asks me for a piggy back ride or to see her paintings or to go to her swimming meet at school, it chips away at you. Damages the fragile ties that bind you to your family.

Izzy reminds me so much of my little sister, Hannah that, every time her big blue eyes stare up at me all wide and full of adoration I want to leave you. I want to leave you because you don't appreciate her and I do. You have everything and all I have is you.

I see my baby sister in Izzy the same way that you see your ex in every petite red head that passes us on the streets.

We're both haunted by past ghosts, only mine are dead and yours; yours could be laid to rest if only you'd try.

XXXXX

**Ec·cen·tric**

** from a recognized, conventional, or established norm or pattern.**

2 backpacks

1 crumpled map

1 half empty bottle of Jaeger

3 ham and cheese butties

6 cans of cider (pear)

plasters

1/2 a skipping rope

a donkey

2 plane tickets

you

You said you wrote donkey on the list because you didn't want to walk everywhere.

When I mentioned that a bike would probably be easier, you looked at me like it was the most bizarre suggestion in the world.

I think I fell in love with you right then and there.

I'd never met someone so incredibly odd as you.

XXXXX

**Var·i·ance**

**1. The fact or quality of being different, divergent, or inconsistent.**

** state or fact of disagreeing or quarrelling.**

Our differences were probably my favourite part of our relationship.

-You always wanted to try new things; food, bars, dances, clothes.

I was happy with what I knew, where I went, who I saw.

-You saw your family as a burden sometimes, even though your love for them was vast.

My family was gone, nothing but dust, and I treasured yours like something precious.

-You can't hold your drink at all yet I could consume alcohol as an Olympic sport if I wanted to.

-You love cats and I prefer dogs.

-Id rather listen to music and you'd rather watch a film.

-You were bright, sunny, warm as a summers day and people loved you for you.

I was tall, dark, broody and muscular, people just loved my body.

The list went on and on.

It was our differences that made us grow as people. Our differences that connected us in a way that always conjured up an image of puzzle pieces in my mind.

Even if our pieces weren't an exact fit, they squeezed together tight enough to become stuck. We wedged ourselves to fit each other and thought that would be enough.

XXXXX

**Con·tend**

** to surmount (a difficulty or danger).**

** in a competition or campaign in order to win or achieve (something).**

We were at a carnival in your home town. Izzy was with us and so was your dad; a family outing.

It was a stupid game. One of those, 3 balls for $1 games, where you have to knock all the bottles down.

I'd played baseball all through high school, even went pro for a while before changing my career path. I had impeccable accuracy when throwing a ball.

You can barely hit me if we're lying side by side in bed, but you hate to lose.

I miss all three shots on purpose and you spend all night waving the stuffed panda you won in my face with a grin so wide I'm afraid your face might split.

Later on, when you're off getting hot dogs with your dad, I go back to the stand and knock all the bottles down with one ball. The massive dolphin I win gets given to Izzy so she can rub it in her big brothers face the way you've been doing to me.

The look you give me when you spot the giant stuffed animal is omniscient. The quirk of your lips says everything I already know, you don't even have to speak.

Later that night, when we're driving home from your parents you hold my hand and whisper 'Thank you' into the dark. Without missing a beat I reply.

"You know I'd do anything for you."

The dark look that graces your face for a split second makes me aware of your internal battle.

To trust or not to trust.

I glance away from the road to see your eyes shut tight.

"I know."

The smile on your lips looks forced so I squeeze your hand tighter.

XXXXXX

**Des·per·ate**

**1. Feeling, showing, or involving a hopeless sense that a situation is so bad as to be impossible to deal with.**

**2.(of an act or attempt) Tried in despair or when everything else has failed; having little hope of success.**

"We can fix this." I say after a breath that fills my lungs fit to burst.

You trace graceful fingers across my skull. Trailing over my cheek bones, across my nose, through the stubble on my chin and throat before twisting your fingers into where my hair is the longest at the base of my neck.

"You'll never look at me the same way." you whisper against my collar bone, broken.

I cling to your hips, bruising their sharpness with my hands. You're a piece of driftwood in the raging sea and I cannot swim.

You're the oxygen in the mask when the air is full of smoke.

You're the gravity that keeps me nailed to the ground when all I want to do is float.

"We can fix this."

I'm using that tone of voice you always liken to a growl and you fall limp in my arms, clinging to me like I am to you.

"We can fix this."

XXXXXX

**Fate **

** development of events outside a person's control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power. **

** destined to happen, turn out, or act in a particular way.**

I missed my train by 30 seconds.

My bike had broken down on the way to the train station.

The next train wasn't expected for half an hour and I was definitely getting fired if I was late for work again.

I swear loudly and colourfully, kicking a metal bin in my anger.

A beautiful boy with buzzed brown hair and glittering amber eyes full of mirth coughs to hide his laughter and draws my attention.

Its the first time I lay eyes on you and I want nothing more than to wipe that smirk off of your face. Your smile catches me unawares though. Its totally disarming and it makes me want to blush with embarrassment.

"Where you heading big boy?"

I bark out a laugh at your attempt to be sultry. You're just a kid, no older than 19, three years younger than myself.

I never gave anyone the time of day back then but you're different; special.

"I was heading to work but fate doesn't seem to want me to get there today."

Your eyes drooped to half mast and the little boy act is just that, an act.

_You've been toying with me from the start._

"Well why don't you side with fate and come with me for coffee?"

I think about saying no, I really, truly do, but I end up shrugging and following you anyway.

What can it hurt? Its just coffee with a beautiful stranger.

I'm still unsure to whether it was the best or worse decision I've ever made.

XXXXXXXXXXX

**For·fei·ture**

**1. something that is lost or surrendered as a penalty;forfeit**

**2.a penalty for a fault or mistake that involves losing or giving up something.**

I was 17 when my family were killed. The middle child of three kids. Laura, me and baby Hannah.

I was at school when our house - our home - burnt down.

Laura was home from collage so mum and dad had taken the day off of work to spend some time with her, and Hannah had chicken pox so she wasn't aloud out.

I had the worst day ever; failed a test, got into a fight with some guys on the lacrosse team, got a weeks worth of detention and a black eye.

I didn't think the day could get any worse until the Sheriff called me out of Economics to tell me my family had been murdered, BBQ'd extra crispy.

I'm never the same after that.

You cry the first time I tell you about my past. You sob and hiccup and I end up comforting you instead of the other way around. For the next week you struggle to let me out of your sight in case the fire will suddenly creep up to take me away too. Its sweet and unnecessary but it makes me fall for you just a little bit harder.

You tell me how your mum is sick and how even though your family has more money than they know what to do with it wont help her, nothing can help her.

We hold each other close and fall asleep on the couch.

Was my family what I had to forfeit for this relationship?

Did I have to lose my family as a kid in order to find love as an adult?

XXXXXXXXXXXX

**Gently**

** , without a lot of force or sudden change in movement**

** small or slow movements**

** a kind way, being careful not to frighten or upset someone**

"Don't play with Isaac like that! You might hurt him!" you cry, hurling your body over the couch to tug the tiny ball of black fur from my hands, cooing at him and pressing your lips to his silky coat.

I scoff but allow you to take the husky pup from me with little fuss.

You know my family bred wolves and dogs for a living, how they worked hand in hand with the local vets to help the new borns and rescued dogs trust humans so they could be adopted.

You know this but you overlook it because you forget that I can be gentle.

'A man mountain', was how you described me. All sharp angles and bulging muscles all wrapped up in stubble and leather jackets.

How can a man so strong be gentle?

You forget how I plait your sister long blonde hair with deft fingers.

You forget how I sewed up your suit jacket the night before that benefit dinner you dragged me to.

You forget how I rouse you from sleep with soft lingering kisses.

You look at me sometimes and I don't think you can see me, all you see is this image you've created in your mind.

You apologize later. Drop Isaac onto my lap where he instantly burrows into my t shirt, sand paper tongue licking at my fingers.

Honey coloured eyes darken dramatically and then you're curled around me on the sofa pressing kitten kisses to my neck.

I turn my head as you go to kiss my lips and you get my stubble rough cheek instead. You know you'll be forgiven by the time we get home so you leave me to cool down, cuddled up with the puppy and wishing I could explain how crappy you can make me feel on a daily basis.

XXXX

**An·thro·po·mor·phism**

** attribution of human characteristics or behaviour to a god, animal, or object.**

You can't help yourself.

Whenever we get something new for the flat, whether it be an ornament or a piece of furniture or an appliance, you have to name it.

Our sofa's named Jerry. The TV is Frank. The curtains in our bedroom are Wilma and Kim, a married couple from New Orleans who used to be exotic dancers; (they moved in the breeze one day and the story just stuck).

You name my bike and my guitar and my oven and the plant pots that had been my mothers.

Your car is your mistress; the Lady Morganna, a beautiful, powerful witch forever trapped in Jeep form because she fell for the wrong man.

I'm not aloud to put my feet up on the coffee table whilst wearing shoes because I might scuff Mike.

We're not aloud to shout at Owen, the toaster, when he refuses to pop up the bread before it burns.

You coax Loretta, our kettle, into boiling faster by singing seductive songs that all sound like 'Pour Some Sugar On Me', but with your own lyrics.

You just can't help yourself, you have to make something out of nothing.

XXXXXX

_**Dis·tant**_

**Far away in space or time.**

**_(after a measurement) At a specified distance._**

I don't know who your ex is/was, other than the few off hand comments that I've over heard, but she's affected you in a way I can't undo.

We'll be walking down the high street, hand in hand, smiling and joking and sharing giddy kisses until something will catch your eye.

A young girl in a emerald pea coat, a petite female with a shock of strawberry blonde hair, a middle aged women in a power suit arguing with someone via blue tooth.

You leave me, consumed with your memories of this women who broke your heart and we might as well be on different planets because you cant see or hear or feel me when you're thinking about her.

You never do anything obvious like call me by her name but every once in a while you'll slip up. You'll say something like, 'I got raspberries because I know you don't like strawberries', when you know strawberries are my favourite fruit, or 'you always have two sugars in your tea', when I don't put sugar in anything, which you know because you make me tea and toast in bed every Sunday morning I spend at yours.

Its nothing major. Its not like you scream someone else's name in bed. But sometimes it worries me that I don't have all of you the way you have me, and in those moments where you're somewhere else, I can't help but want to drag you back to me and remind you who you're with.

XXXX

_Theif_ _1.A person who steals another person's property, esp. by stealth and without using force or violence._

_My side of the quilt._

_The corner seat of our L shaped sofa._

_Sips of my coffee when you think I'm not paying attention._

_The breath from my lungs when you smile._

_XXXX _

_**Ar·e·na·ceous**_

_**Consisting of sand or sand like particle**_

**_having the texture of sand_**

_Arenaceous. A word I had never heard before I met you, but I suppose it describes me pretty well, you seem to think so anyway._

_Harsh. Rough. Gritty._

_"__You can't just brush people off like that!" you say. "How do you ever expect to make friends if you're so harsh with people?" _

_The answer is, of course, that I'm not trying to make friends, with anybody. I'm content with the people in my life, content with you._

_I get the feeling sometimes you wish you could 'just add water', turn my sand into clay and mould me into the man you want._

_Xxxx_

**Melodramatic **

**_extravagant__in__speech,__behaviour._**

_"__I'm dying!"_

_Blushed cheeks, runny nose, bloodshot eyes. You sneeze and Isaac yips in fright, scampers from the room to find Izzy or perhaps your dad._

_"__You're not dying honey you're just sick." I say with a soft smile, folding up a wet cloth before laying it on your burning forehead._

_"__Mmm, s'good."_

_Golden eyes flutter shut in bliss and I take the opportunity to kiss your button nose. _

_I love you like this. Not ill, just pliant and drowsy and warm._

_"__Don't kiss me! If you kiss me then you'll get sick too and then who's gonna look after me and we'll never get better and if there's a zombie apocalypse we'll be eaten first because we'll be too ill to get out of bed and I'm too young and you're too pretty to die in such a gruesome way and I don't think..."_

_My hand over your mouth stops your blabbering even though I'm smiling and I can feel your lips doing the same underneath my palm._

_"__Get some sleep drama queen."_

_You huff and mumble something that sounds vaguely like, 'more like a size queen' before curling up, head on my chest and falling asleep. _

_Xxxxx_

**Fil·i·pen·du·lous**

**suspended by or strung upon a thread**

Our whole relationship riding on one word, one answer.

"That night with Jackson, did it mean anything?"

I instantly regret my decision to ask what's been plaguing my head for weeks. Your eyes are cast downwards, your tense shoulders saying what you can't bring your mouth to.

I remember why I stopped letting people in. Down my tea as if its whiskey and spend the night alone in our bed.

The thread holding us together is dangerously close to snapping under all this weight.

XXXXXX

**Apricity **

**1. the warmth of the sun in the winter.**

Your skin is always so warm.

Even in December with the bedroom window open and the quilts kicked to the floor, you'd still be generating heat like a furnace.

There could be snow littering the floor like a perfect ivory carpet and as long as I was in your arms I would be toasty.

The heat of your heart melting into the frosty air around us, thawing the ice.

XXXX

**Agroof **

**to fall flat on your face**

Sometimes you get so excited you can't control your feet.

You come flying through the front door, sprint across the hall, skid around the corner into the kitchen and sprawl, a messy pile of limbs, at my feet, grinning like a mad man.

"Dad said you were making cookies."

XXXXXX

_**Ret·ri·bu·tion**_

** that is considered to be morally right and fully deserved.**

Has retribution ever made anyone feel better about themselves, or their situation, afterwards?

No, me neither.

XXXXX

_**Per·sua·sive**_

_** at persuading someone to do or believe something through reasoning or the use of temptation**_

"I've never dated a man before." you say. Bedroom eyes smouldering like it's their job. You've got wandering hands and a slick, tempting tongue that keeps darting out of your mouth to moisten your perfect lips.

"There's not even that much of an age difference, I mean really? What's four years?"

You wink and sidle up real close, champagne flowing like the lines of your lithe teenage body.

I fold like a cheap suit because it's you, only for you.

You know exactly how persuasive you can be and you've been playing it from day one.

XXXXX

_**Ice**_

** water, a brittle, transparent crystalline solid.**

There have been two instances in our relationship that I remember, that I've heard anyway, when you've used the word 'icy' or a similar metaphor in relation to me.

The first time was about two months into us dating. We were sat on Highland beach one Sunday afternoon before Christmas, just watching the snow settle like a blanket over the grassy plains and barely landing on the sand before melting away.

Your nose was a startling shade of red and you were wearing both your coat and mine.

You squealed as I cupped your cheeks with frozen fingers.

"Sweet Jesus on a pogo stick! Your hands are icy!"

They're not icy for long though, as you dragged them into your own sleeves, tangling our fingers together in the snug heat of your jacket, both of us smiling like fools in love the whole time and I'd never felt more at home.

The second time isn't a happy memory and I wasn't supposed to hear you say it.

We'd just been having a... A lovers tiff. It had been too muted and civilized to be called a fight but it had definitely been more than just a disagreement, nothing major really, nothing that could end our relationship.

I had stormed out straight afterwards to calm down and when I got back home you were still there, curled up on my window seat like it was yours, your mobile phone cradled against your ear.

You didn't hear me walk in, too engrossed in your phone call.

You looked tired and worn, older than your 20 years, weighed down by a relationship that was constantly sailing on choppy waters if not completely on the rocks.

Not for the first time I'm reminded that you're too young and I'm too damaged to make this work, but we're both nothing if not stubborn sons of bitches.

You sighed, deep and wearily, and dragged a hand through your hair.

Voice strained you whispered: "He's just so closed off all the time y'know? He's like... It's like he's made of ice or something! He's so cold he's fucking frosty! He's constantly wrapped up in this solid, icy shell and every time I try and like, ease him out of it I get freaking frost bite!"

You shook your head sadly and rubbed the heel of your hand against your eye unaware of my heart cracking in my chest from across the room.

"It's hard work Scott and I'm, I'm exhausted."

XXXXX

**Frisson**

**1.a moment of intense excitement; a shudder.**

You make this noise before you come.

Its a cross between a shudder, a gasp, and a shout of my name all wrapped up in one perfect sound that I will never forget.

It sends shivers down my spine.

It's my cue to whisper in your ear.

"Let go, don't worry I've got you."

And when you start to shudder and shake and fall apart...

I can't wait to put you back together to reduce you to pieces again.

XXXXX

_**Scha·den·freu·de**_

** derived by someone from another person's misfortune.**

You have such a dark sense of humour sometimes and it reminds me so much of Laura. She too was constantly laughing at inappropriate moments. .

-An old lady tripping up the steps on the bus.

-A waitress spilling boiling soup down a suited and booted customer.

-Me hitting my head on the extractor fan over the oven.

-Pressing the 'close doors' button on the elevator when you see someone running for it.

-A little kid walking straight into the patio doors at a friends BBQ.

For someone who acts so sweet and innocent you sure do find joy in watching people getting hurt.

XXXXXX

**Paramour**

1.a lover, esp. one in an adulterous relationship.

At Abigail's wedding your mother introduced me to your Uncle Bob as your 'paramour'.

We held in our laughter until our faces were purple and even hours later, after we had calmed down, every time we caught each other's eye we would dissolve into laughter again.

"Well my gracious paramour," you announce, standing up from our table with a flourish, "I must leave you now to hunt down another glass of glorious champagne to devour, but fear not! For I shall meet you at the rendezvous point at dusk."

You bow so low your nose almost scrapes the crisp white table cloth and the laugh that bubbles out of my mouth unbidden has you cackling like a witch straight from the pages of Mac Beth.

I never feel more carefree than when you act like this; _frivolous, juvenile. Totally at peace with who you are. You make me feel so alive._

_XXXXX _

_**Tired**_

**In need of sleep or rest; weary.**

You shake your head sadly and rub the heel of your hand against your eye unaware of my heart cracking in my chest from across the room.

"It's hard work Scott and I'm, I'm exhausted."

You exhale all the air from your lungs and I want nothing more than to run and never come back. I want to disappear and never hear the words you're about to speak.

Too late.

I'm practically masochistic when it comes to you.

"I know I said I love him Scott but, I don't know how much longer I can do this. I'm so tired."

XXXXX

_**An·ni·ver·sa·ry**_

**The date on which an event took place in a previous year.**

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!"

I open my eyes and grin at the picture that greets me.

You in my grey henley that's way too big for you and has slid off of one shoulder showing an indecent amount of alabaster skin, holding a wooden tray with two glasses of champagne, cheese on toast and a lopsided sunflower.

"Happy anniversary," I grin back stealing a kiss as you make yourself comfortable at my side, "What's with this poor fella?" I ask thumbing the drooping sunflower. You smile, doe eyes alight with excitement that makes my stomach fizzle.

"Its a sunflower, we've been together three years and wikipedia said that the flower for the third year of a relationship is a sunflower which just so happen to be your favourite Mr.I'!"

I hide the blissful tilt of my lips against your neck and nudge a small brown box towards you with the back of my hand, successfully changing the subject.

"You'll never guess what material three years is." I announce with a teasing nip to your collar bone. I feel you swallow heavily against my lips, your pulse stuttering under fragile skin.

"Leather?"

It's safe to say we don't leave the bed until after our anniversary is over.

XXXXX

_**Re·venge**_

** action of inflicting hurt or harm on someone for a wrong suffered at their hands.**

His name is Danny Mahealani and nothing about him reminds me of you.

He towers over even me, all soft Hawaiian skin stretched taught over hard muscles. His voice is deep and gravely, he's serious and straight forward. His hands never stutter once as they undress me and he doesn't stumble or trip or accidentally hit me with gangly elbows as we leave the club and head back to his place.

You're away on an excursion with work and all I can think of is you on your knees with Jackson's fingers running through your hair, controlling you and you, loving ever second of it. I can't get the image out of my head, even with Danny's hands absolutely everywhere, even with his mouth around me, even when I push into his tight heat and his back almost snaps as he arches into me.

All I can see if your face.

And when Danny comes with an almost scream, splatters my chest with his seed, keens as my nails bite into his golden brown hips, I have to sink my teeth into his shoulder to stop myself from crying out your name.

As soon as he's asleep I sneak out and head back to ours, curl up in our sheets that smell of your aftershave and shampoo. I feel sick, disgusted at myself. I want to shower until my skin is red raw and I can't feel the phantom hands that aren't yours trailing across my skin.

I thought getting my own back would fill the whole in my chest, would make us equal, but if anything it's made things worse and this time, this time its my fault.

XXXXXX

**P**_**el·lu·cid**_

**Translucently clear.**

**_Lucid in style or meaning; easily understood._**

_"__Is something wrong?" you ask, stretched out beside me in our bed, a book on folk law hanging limp in your hand as your honey coloured eyes study me intently. _

_It's the fifth time in half an hour that you've glanced over to see me watching you._

_I shrug, pushing down my inner turmoil. You don't know, there's no way you could know. _

_"__Nothing's wrong."_

_The corners of your mouth turn down slightly, your book hitting the silk black sheets of our bed with the softest of sighs._

_"__I swear I'm fine, ____we're__ fine. I'm just tired from work, my boss has been giving me grief over this piece I'm doing and it's stressing me out." I pause and send you a soft smile which brings the palest of pinks to the apples of your cheeks. _

_"__Plus you look really beautiful in this light." _

_Your blush deepens, burns almost crimson as you grin at me, but there's something in your eyes that doesn't soften. _

_You know me better then I know myself and you know something's wrong, no matter how hard I try and hide it._

_XXXXXX _

_**In·fect **_

**1. To contaminate with a pathogenic micro-organism or agent.**

**2. To communicate a pathogen or disease to.**

**3. To invade and produce infection in.**

**4. To contaminate or corrupt**

**To affect in a contagious way**

It's always seemed strange to me how, being around someone all the time changes you. You begin to steal their mannerisms, the words they frequently use, their enthusiasm for things you yourself have never been interested in.

I first noticed it about a year into our relationship. One day I used the word 'awesome' to describe a film to Izzy, another instance I found myself rubbing the back of my neck because I was nervous, later onI found myself in a passionate debate over who was the better superhero; Batman or Spiderman, (Batman obviously).

I was slowly becoming contaminated by your thoughts, your ideas, in the same way that my flat was being contaminated by your clothes and books and films.

It wasn't just me though, I noticed you started to imitate me a little bit. You'd growl when something annoyed you, you'd bite me, teasingly, playfully in the bedroom, you'd raise an eyebrow instead of verbally expressing your disapproval of something and you'd highlight phrases and dog ear pages in books that affected you, something I'd been doing since a child.

We were slowing merging into one tangled mess of a person and I don't think I had ever wanted anything more.

XXXXX

**Ef·fu·sive**

**1. Unrestrained or excessive in emotional expression; gushy: an effusive manner.**

**Profuse; overflowing.**

"God I love you."

We're pressed so close we're almost the same person. Your lips, your hands, your skin, melting into me, becoming mine.

"You're so gorgeous, I love you, I love you, I love you." you gush pressing chaste kisses to every inch of my skin you can reach. My fingers clench at your shoulder, long to be buried in your grown-out hair.

"Mineminemine."

My breath catches in my throat.

"Yours."

XXXXX

**Crack**

**1.A line along which something has split without breaking into separate parts.**

You tell me, one day completely out of the blue, that you and Izzy don't get along well because you blame her for your mom getting sick.

It hits me right in the sternum but I hold you close anyway. You're frustrated and upset and not at all as put together as you make everyone think but it's okay. I love you just like this.

You tell me you know it's stupid, you know it's not Izzy's fault, not even slightly but, your mom was in perfect health before your little sister was born and now... Now she's not, now she never will be again.

You hate yourself for it but you can't let it go.

It's there every time you look at her and it breaks your heart.

I don't know how to make you see that it's not just you you're hurting by feeling this way, so I just hold you impossibly tight and tell you I love you.

XXXXXX


	2. Chapter 2

_**Lo·qua·cious**_

**Talkative **

"So, what do you do for a living?"

I smile softly, slowly chewing the food in my mouth before answering.

"I'm a writer."

You smile back; warm, secretly.

I take a long sip of wine under your watchful gaze, your eyes glittering with mirth.

"And what do you write?"

You're quick, so damn smart and God help me, I'm already falling for you two weeks in.

"I'm a journalist."

You nod but your thirst for information isn't quenched.

You want, no, you em_need/em_ to know everything about everyone.

Lets call it a 'quirk'.

"I'm guessing that's not really the career you had in mind?"

How do you do that? See everything that others miss, how are you always so insightful and disarming and genuinely interested in everyone. I hate talking about myself, my past, but with you...

Words have only ever come easy for me on paper but when it comes to you its like I can speak my mind.

"I've always wanted to be a novelist, it's the only thing in my life I truly love. I already have two books written and edited but, well, there's just been no one interested in publishing them."

I shrug like it doesn't matter even though it em_does/em _.

The glint in your eye flickers and becomes a flame and I have the strangest feeling that if you get your way everything in my life will change.

I should have known then that you always get what you want.

XXXXXX

_**An·tip·a·thy**_

_**1. A deep-seated feeling of dislike; aversion**__._

_"__HELP! Oh my god if you're not in this room in five seconds I swear to Vader that I'll..."_

_I bound into the kitchen, half dressed, with my heart pounding against my chest to find you balanced precariously on top of our breakfast bar with a broom in your hand and a scowl on your face. _

_You catch sight of me and instantly sag with relief._

_"__Oh thank the heavens above! There's a cockroach!" you announce, flailing your arms in the direction of the living room, "A COCKROACH! In __our__house! Can you __believe__the arrogance of the thing! Can't they __sense__my fear- I mean hatred of them!?"_

_I roll my eyes and stroll past you to get to the dishwasher, pulling out a pint glass before heading towards where you'd been pointing to, the soundtrack of your freak out a constant buzzing in my ears._

_"__And another thing! How did it even get in? It's winter! All the doors and windows are closed!"_

_I let out a sigh as I find the tiny insect, "Come here little guy." Before cracking open a window and throwing it into our garden. I could probably follow it out, escape into the outside world away from whiny child afraid of bugs._

_You're still moaning when I return to the kitchen and if you weren't so adorably gorgeous I'd probably scream._

_"__They're so grotesque and just ugh, they make my skin-"_

_I huff out a laugh and tug on the bottom of your jeans to get your attention._

_"__It's gone baby, don't worry the poor defenceless cockroach can no longer hurt you with its 'laser eyes' or whatever the hell you think insects have that __terrifies__you so." _

_You grin at that, finally halting in your endless monologue to hold out your arms so I can help you down from the counter top._

_"__My hero!" you sing, batting tempting eyelashes at me as I cradle you to my chest._

_"__My princess." I tease back, burying my face in your shoulder and nipping at the soft skin playfully._

_"__My Over-the-top-probably-psycotic-beautifully-childish..."_

_"__Okay, okay, okay!" you giggle, "I get the point! Now shut up and kiss me!"_

_XXXXXX_

_**Di·vin·i·ty**_

_**The state or quality of being divine.**_

_Its late, or early depending on how you look at it. _

_3am and still dark. _

_You wake me up with hushed whispers, slightly frantic, a bright grin stretching your handsome face._

_I never understood why you would always whisper in the night as it it was a sleeping baby you didn't want to wake._

_Your fingers tangle around my wrist and you drag me to the open window that leads out onto the fire escape. I don't even hesitate to follow you up the rickety stair case and onto the roof. _

_This is you in your element; exploring, full of wonder at a world that had always seemed so dull to me._

_You brought me the colour. You brought me the light._

_It's not until about ten minutes later, when we're cuddled up under the worn blanket that had been Laura's, that I hadn't noticed you were holding that I realise what day it is._

_I squeeze my eyes shut, clench my fingers around your biceps waiting for the pain to ravage its way through my chest but;_

_Nothing happens. _

_The pain stays a faint, heavy ache in my chest, trudging along with the blood in my veins just like it always is. It doesn't flare up, doesn't make me crumble into dust. _

_I slowly open my eyes, uncurl my fingers hoping I haven't left bruises on your perfect skin._

_"__S,Sorry, I er..."_

_"__Shhh." you whisper, the hint of a smile on your lips as you lean back against my chest. "Just, watch."_

_You tilt your head back so its resting on my shoulder, turning your gaze to the stars._

_There's a meteor shower. Of course there's a meteor shower._

_By now I'm working off the theory that you're actually magic, what with your words and your timing and the way you know when words and timing aren't needed._

_The stars are breathtaking, streaking the sky with their fading light but it's not them I'm watching. Never them._

_It's always you._

_XXXXX _


	3. Chapter 3

**Haunt·ed**  
**1. (of a place) Frequented by a ghost: "it looked like a classic haunted mansion".**  
**2. Showing signs of mental anguish or torment.**

Your fingerprints litter my skin like bruises, and just like with bruises they hang around long after their cause is gone.  
Just sitting there.

_Taunting. _

Just lounging around on my body, my books, on the wolf shaped coffee mug you brought me for Christmas. They're skattered around the house and they just _linger. _

Like ghosts.

And they should be gone, just like _you_ are but they're not, and I wish you were still around too.

XXXXXXX

**Debacle**  
**1. a sudden, disastrous collapse, downfall, or defeat; a rout. **  
**2. a total, often ludicrous failure.**

It's a Wednesday when you find out.

You've been back from your business trip two weeks and for the first time in months I'm comfortable with us. I'm not flinching at every thing I say, we're back to sleeping; cuddling, in our bed. There's trust there just like when we started up.  
We're not perfect but we could be and I cling to that hope.  
And yeah, you might have messed up, but I messed up even worse so it's okay, because you don't know and you'll _never_ know. I can live with the guilt because I'll still have you.  
That is until you find out.

_God, I couldn't catch a break if it hit me square in the face. _

Because **Danny** is _Jackson's_ best friend, and Danny can't stop talking about the gorgeous stranger he went home with last weekend.

The irony is almost too much to bear. I almost want to laugh or scream or _jump off the nearest roof. _

You find out on a Wednesday and it's the **worst** day of my life.

You look so sad; fifteen and broken hearted and It makes me want to stab myself with the sharpest object I can find just to share in your pain. Because this is so much worse than what you did to me and yet you know you can't be too mad because it's similar, _so damn similar_, and I forgave you, so now you need to forgive me.

I know you won't forgive me.

You can barely form words, I'm not sure if you're really even breathing.

It's a Wednesday when you pack an overnight bag and shuffle from our apartment with the keys to your Jeep clutched in your fist. Your knuckles bleached white from the strain.

"It's okay," you stutter, a twisted smile painted onto your red raw lips, "we're all evened out now, fair and perfectly square."

I'm grasping at thin air as you leave; out of breath and time and excuses.

Your phone stays off all night and by the time I fall asleep the suns up and the world spins on.

XXXX

**Bom·bi·nate  
1. Buzz; hum **

"Five minutes, just five, I beg of you!"  
You pause for a second, pondering with your pointer finger to you lips as you hum in consideration.

A grin overtakes my face unbidden. I love you like this, when you're hyper active and so full of energy I'm almost afraid you might burst with it, but my dead line is in three hours and I'm nowhere near done and you just won't _stop. _

You're a constantly moving tornado and good god am I forever going to be a casualty to you.

"D'ya know what? I don't think I will!" you cry, pouncing over the sofa to land, a squirming heap, on my lap, crumpling my notes and sending my pen scattering across the floor .

Some days you're more of a lap dog then Isaac, screaming _'lovemelovemelove'_ with every flail of your long limbs, and so I do, even if it means a pissed off boss and having to write the worst articles the paper has to offer for a week.

XXXXX

**Met·a·phor  
1. A figure of speech in which a word or phrase that ordinarily designates one thing is used to designate another, thus making an implicit comparison. **

You're a riot. You're smudged ink and misspelt tattoos. You're an eclipse and you're a tsunami and you make me sick to my stomach with excitement and knee quivering fear. You're a drunk archer firing an arrow at the apple balancing on my head. You're a pebble polished by a stream that has somehow found its way to the ocean. You're a snowflake, fleeting. You're the best in me and occasionally the worse.

_You're everything._


End file.
